


girl we'd have it good.

by soarintardis



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, I Made Myself Cry, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Prison, Reunion Fic, Reunions, Stress Baking, because I like those, but where's the fun in that, i never know how to tag fics lmao, i would tell you who they are in the character tags, it's all about the element of surprise, my longest fic to date!!, oh yeah it's a song fic too, prison fic, there is many a cameo in this, what i want to happen in the special but i know it wont
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soarintardis/pseuds/soarintardis
Summary: "A small “oh” escaped her mouth, it clicked. She turned to the burst of colour next to her, life with Yaz, what was that reality like?"For Yaz it's been a year, for the Doctor it's been many. A story of separated lovers, angsty reunions and cake.Inspired by the lyrics of Anyone Else by Joshua Bassett
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	girl we'd have it good.

**Author's Note:**

> waaaaaaaAAAAHHHH this has been such a long time coming!! I've been working on this fic for about three months now, it feels so good to get it out into the world after so long of just screaming to phie about the storyline I was conjuring up. 
> 
> this is my longest fic to date and I'm super proud of it, however, it's length may mean that I've missed a grammar/spelling mistake so go easy on me! 
> 
> there's a total of five previous era characters that have a cameo in this, so look out for them! you can't know who they are until you read though... I'm sneaky like that. oomf also makes a cameo but I'll let them find that out for themself. ;)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!

_You say you gotta think it over_

_I can't stop thinkin' of you_

_Is he the guy you want to hold ya_

_I'll be here when you need me to_

She heard a shuffle in the darkness, the padding of light feet around the Khan family flat. Half asleep, Yaz sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she glanced at her phone: 3:30 am.

“Doctor?” she asks the darkness, still waiting for her eyes to adjust. The shuffling stops as a dark figure comes into focus and her best friend steps into the slither of moonlight coming through the gap in the blinds. She looked anxious, borrowed navy pyjamas with little rainbows scattered across them cladding her small form, her hair tousled from either a heavy sleep or lack of; Yaz guessed the latter.

“Yaz? What are you doing awake?” she whispered, her head tilted like a confused puppy. Yaz scoffed, getting out of her makeshift bed from their camp on the sofas.

“You woke me up, have you been pacing or something? What’s up?” Yaz comforted, concerned for the timelord. “You’ve been really tired all day; this has been a really tough… ‘mission’? I guess? What do we even call the adventures when we solve problems in the universe?” that pulled a small giggle from her friend’s lips. “Anyway, I thought you’d sleep through the night for once” she stated, concerned for the alien who seemed to have been pacing the small confines of the living room for most of the night.

The Doctor sighed, “I’m worried that the plan won’t go right tomorrow, it doesn’t normally take me this long to figure something out and solve the problem. We’re usually in and out within a few hours!” she flopped down on the sofa, curling in on herself. “I’m sorry for waking you Yaz, the whole point of a sleepover is that we go to sleep and I haven’t slept a wink” she turned to her companion, uneasiness clouding her eyes. Yaz melted, even when completely filled with fear, the alien’s childlike wonder and want to experience human customs shone through.

“Well, firstly, I think you’ve completely misunderstood the concept of sleepovers. It’s very rare that those participating do actually sleep because they’re messing about with their mates instead.” she chuckled, as the Doctor’s eyes blew wide with interest, “I know it’s important we get some rest before tomorrow, but how about I stay up with you for a bit? When I get anxious, I always channel it into baking a cake, maybe we could bake together? Then try and sleep? How does that sound?” she offered, flicking on a table lamp, assuming they’d be awake a while. With a tentative nod, the time lord unfurled, the curiosity slowly overtaking her sad features.

“That’d be nice, I’ve not baked much before, especially not at this time. Usually, I’m fixing up the TARDIS but, she’s not letting us in, so…” as she began to mention their predicament with the TARDIS, the Doctor began to curl in on herself. In preparation for their takedown of the ancient colony overtaking the sewers of the city centre, they’d had to put the TARDIS on lockdown to charge up and prepare itself, as well as align itself with the energy pulses from the invaders’ epicentre. These steps meant the timelord had been split from her most-dearest friend for the night; no wonder she was filled with dread and worry. No amount of soft rainbow pyjamas, blanket forts or bowls of pasta Yaz offered could replace the companionship of her trusty spacecraft. Sensing a shift in tone from the Doctor, Yaz jumped up from the sofa with as much enthusiasm as she could muster for almost four in the morning.

“Right then, that settles it! We’re baking a cake, c’mon!” she declared, thrusting a hand out to pull the sad alien off the sofa, leading her to the kitchen.

The pair wandered over to the kitchen, hand in hand, Yaz wished she could hold her hand forever, but when they reached their destination, she immediately dropped it, feeling the loss instantly. Her friend looked like a lost puppy stood in the middle of the kitchen fumbling with her hands, she had no clue where to start. Yaz looked around, placing her hands on her hips.

“Okay, there should be a mixing bowl in one of those cupboards, you look for that while I rummage for some ingredients” she smiled at the Doctor, who nodded, immediately acting upon instruction. Yaz looked through the fridge for eggs and margarine before moving to look for sugar before a large CRASH interrupted her line of thought. Her head whipped around to the timelord sat by a cupboard, baking trays and pots scattered around her.

“Sorry,” she said with a scrunch of the face, innocently clinging onto the biggest bowl she could find. Slowly, she got up and placed the bowl on the side, moving to work out how the dishwasher opened and loading in all that she’d dropped on the floor. Yaz rolled her eyes as she watched her perform the humane task, thanking the entire universe that her family had left the flat for a wedding that weekend. She hadn’t factored in the clumsiness of the woman who defended all of space and time but that was all part of the fun. It was time for the messiest stress bake she’d ever encountered.

The clock ticked just past five whilst the pair sat at the breakfast bar, star-sprinkled and rainbow strewn pyjamas alike covered in flour and sugar, the kitchen vaguely cleaned up and a plate of cake each in front of them. It was quiet, peaceful, nothing like the past hour of mischief, dancing around to quiet music on the radio, the clatter of baking utensils as they messily threw all their anxieties into a Victoria sponge cake. She quietly admired the woman she thought the world of whilst she tasted their creation.

“Ah Yaz! This is ace!” she remarked, going in for another bite excitedly, “just brilliant! Do we have to save some for Ryan and Graham? Kind of want to eat the whole thing ma self” she asked, mouth half full. Yaz chuckled, taking a bite herself, it was pretty good.

“Well, you can thank Mary Berry for that, maybe we’ll sneak the rest of the cake onto the TARDIS without telling the boys” she giggled, the timelord’s eyes twinkling with glee as she considered the suggestion. “you feeling better then?” she probed, still quite worried for the Doctor.

“Much better, thanks Yaz, think I might be able to sleep a bit now. You’re amazing Yasmin Khan” she uttered with a warm smile and a forkful of cake, reaching out to grab her hand, “I hope you know that”. Yaz woke up. 

She caught her bearings, looking around the unfamiliar room before looking at the clock. It was 3 am, she was in Graham’s spare room. Then, it all came back to her. The cybermen, the Master, the TARDIS, the Doctor, “live great lives” swirled around her head, the Doctor was gone, her best friend was gone, the woman she loved most was gone and she never got to tell her how she truly felt. She broke down in tears, silently sobbing in the cold dark room.

The tears came thick and fast, all she could think of was her. The grief was all-consuming, had the past two days even been real? She was coming back right? She always comes back. She had to come back. What was the point if she never came back? She fell back onto the mattress and curled in on herself, soaking the sheets with tears, picking at the sweatpants Ryan had lent her after Graham suggested she stay the night. She tried to fall back asleep but as soon as she closed her eyes she was remembering again. All those quiet moments, the late-night conversations, the adventures they’d been on, the cake that they made. It was no use, she slowly got out of bed and crept to the kitchen, hoping for a glass of water. What she didn’t expect to find was Ryan and Graham sat at the kitchen table, mugs of tea in hand.

“Can’t sleep either love?” Graham asked softly, moving to put the kettle back on, Ryan shooting her a small, sad smile.

“Not really, no” she choked out, ready to cry again. Ryan slowly pulled out a kitchen chair and pulled it next to him, allowing his best mate to collapse into the chair and cry into his shoulder, a reassuring arm wrapping around her small, vulnerable form. As Graham finished the tea and placed it back down, Ryan soothed her as much as he could, brushing her hair out of her face and rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. He had caught glimpses of the quiet moments her and the Doctor had shared together, as well as sat through all of Yaz’s gushing rants on the TARDIS confiding her crush in him. He knew, from the moment the Doctor went back for the Master that, she wouldn’t take this well at all. Occasionally, Yaz would hiccup and Ryan would push her tea towards her, kissing the top of the head, encouraging his grief-stricken friend to drink. That’s how they sat for the rest of the night, quiet and pensive, the only noise being Graham getting up periodically to refill the tea and Yaz’s quiet sniffles.

Numb, all she could feel was numb. It had been a few days since she got home from Graham and Ryan’s and she was so incredibly drained that she couldn’t even cry anymore. She just sat there, in her room, staring up at the ceiling. She’d worn the same pair of rainbow pyjamas for three consecutive days, anything in an attempt to feel close to her, clinging onto any scraps that could prove her ever-collapsing theory that she was still alive, that she was still out there. A soft knock came from the door, Najia pushing it open ever so slightly, head peeking in. When Graham dropped Yaz back home, she broke down and told her mum everything: how she knew the Doctor, what she had really been doing when she said she was on work trips and how much the time lord meant to her, how she was gone forever, presumed dead to the universe. Najia quietly approached the small mound of blankets that was Yaz and sank down on the mattress beside her, placing a comforting arm on her side. “Have you eaten today, love?” she asks tentatively, no response from Yaz. “You’ve got to eat love, how about you bake a cake? That always makes you feel a bit better” and Yaz broke down once more. Najia pulled her into a tight, warm hug, comforting her for as long as Yaz needed, before leaving her be once more, calling Ryan.

Hours – or days, she wasn’t too sure – later, Ryan arrived at her door, a bag of chips in his hand. “Your mum said you hadn’t eaten anything, thought I’d grab some chips,” he said, holding them up for Yaz to see as she sat up, rubbing her red, puffy eyes, reaching out. “but first,” he snatched the chips away, “you’re having a shower, get your favourite starry pyjamas and go” he demanded, holding the warm, salty delicacy out of her reach. She groaned, but agreed, she could do with a shower. She went through the motions of grabbing what she needed and trudging down the corridor, before she stood in the shower, letting the warm water hit her in an attempt to feel something other than numbness and sadness. It didn’t have its desired effect, she still felt awful, but at least she was now clean and could eat her chips.

The duo sat on the edge of the bed, munching on chips in the silence, until Ryan looked over at her with sad eyes, “Yaz,” he started, tentatively.

“She’s gone Ryan” Yaz interrupted immediately, “she’s gone, and I can’t move on. I feel so, so pointless!” she throws her hands in the air, “at least you and Graham are able to live a vaguely normal life while dealing this, I can’t even drag myself out of bed” her voice quavered, as silent tears began to roll once more, falling onto her half-eaten chips. Ryan grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Graham and I were her mates, but what you two had was different. It makes sense that you’re feeling like this” he comforted, and Yaz scoffed.

“What ‘we’ had was unrequited Ry and you know that. She was way more concerned with the Master, I was just an afterthought” she mumbled dejectedly, stuffing a few chips in her mouth, hoping the salty, greasy snack would temporarily drown out her sorrow. Ryan nudged her.

“What I DO know,” he announced, “is that the Master was an ex-childhood friend and mortal enemy, YOU were ‘Yasmin Khan’, the one that she couldn’t have a universe without.” He turned to his mate, the glee filling his eyes as he began his usual teasing in the hopes it would make her smile, “Did you forget that? Or do you only conveniently remember that when you rant to me about your big fat crush” he teased, nudging her side, earning a small giggle. Ryan softened, catching Yaz’s eye “If you need me, you just call. I’m more than happy to come over, even if it’s 3 am and you just want someone by your side to nap with you.” he said earnestly, Yaz smiled as he moved to leave “besides, even though I love him, being stuck in the house all the time with granddad is a lot _and_ I kinda want Sonya’s number so,” he laughed as a pillow hit him square in the shoulder

“Shut up Ry, you’re not getting it!” she groaned, hearing Ryan laugh as he walked down the corridor, saying his goodbyes to the family. She fell back in bed, feeling slightly less mournful than she did before, which gives her a trace of hope: she’ll be alright soon, maybe.

_Make you feel beautiful in the morning_

_Light you up when the rain won't stop pouring_

_'Cause there's a million little things I haven't told ya_

_It kills me every time he's with you so_

She’s lost track of how long she’s been in her cell now. At the start she’d had a strict schedule: wake up, stare out the window, eat her rations, demand any guard that passes tells her why she’s there, mark her tally on the wall, stare out the window some more, work on an unachievable escape plan, pass out. Now, she just sat there, thinking. It was dangerous when she was left to think. It was a dark swirl of fear and pain, also Yaz. That bit was nice, wasn’t it? Eh, not really anymore. Not now she’s here. How long had she even been in prison? She ran her fingers across the tattoo adorning her wrist. The murky ink danced in a horrific soundwave across her skin, a constant reminder of her false accusation, and the fact that her friends still thought she was dead. If only she had access to the TARDIS, she was sure she’d find a gadget of some sort to get it off in a jiffy, before flying off back to Sheffield to pick up her mated. Stars, she missed that old police box, this is probably the longest she’s ever been apart from it. She dreaded to think what the Judoon had done with it once they’d teleported her here. Maybe they just placed it in a holding cell, that would be the best option, but what if they didn’t? What if they sold it on? Stripped it for parts? Smashed up that beautiful console in a desperate search for information she didn’t even know she was holding onto? Ransacked the rooms? Torn up all her old photos? “Stop! Stop thinking like that!” she cried, jumping up and pacing around the cell. The thoughts were so overwhelming, invading her brain and nestling in. Hot, salty tears were running down her face and her ears were ringing. It was all too much, she wished it could stop, she just wanted it to stop. “What are you DOING?” she shouted at herself, kicking at a wall, before turning back and sliding down it, hands in her hair, tears still falling. All senses were on overload and the run-down alien couldn’t handle it, she lay down on the ground and curled in on herself, hoping if she tried to hide it would all just go away. She cried and cried, letting out months of pent up emotion before she finally passed out, all senses fading into the darkness.

She awoke in a sea of white. It felt soft, calm, as if she was surrounded by cloud. Finding her bearings, the alien stumbled up onto her feet, looking around. Still white, huh, she expected a bit more scenery, this was her dream after all. Her clothes had returned to pristine condition, tears, scuffs and dirt marks miraculously gone; it was like she’d never been in the cell. She ran her thumb across her palm and wrist, no tattoo, no rough texture, no callouses. It was a fragment of solace, the perfect escape, she wished she could stay here forever. She took a few steps into the endless empty dreamscape, there was something familiar about it, it reminded her of the solitract. Her own personal solitract, what would her mind conjure up in place of the fro- “Have you tried the cake yet?” a voice cut through the quiet and halted her train of thought, she knew that voice anywhere. “It’s good.” She slowly turned around and there the girl stood. Yasmin Khan, in star print pyjamas, a plate of cake in her hands.

“Yaz?” she stumbled forward, hoping to reach out to the girl, touch her, hug her, but a

soft barrier held her back from the object of her utmost affection. All she could do was watch, fascinated by the apparition.

“Maybe you’re thinking ‘I’ve already eaten’,” she wonders aloud, gesturing to a scene materialising in front of them like ink descending into water, forming two pyjama-clad figures laughing over slices of cake. That was her most cherished memory of the pair of them, that night in the empty flat, she wished she could go back. Quickly, the image morphed, the dream substance swirling into a different memory, the two of them earlier on in the night. “Or, ‘I want to dance later and don’t want to feel bloated.’,” the figures danced around together, snippets of laughter and Yaz’s cries of “Doctor!” as her past-self put on a big show, spinning around the tiny kitchen and throwing ingredients she should’ve been measuring up into the air, belting Elton John’s ‘Honky Cat’ at the top of her lungs. She smiled at their past antics, always the double act, how Graham and Ryan put up with them she’d never know. “Put the ingredients down Doctor!” Yaz giggled, taking bowl after bowl away from her and restoring them to the counter, only to turn back to the alien spinning around wildly.

“It’s all for the drama Yaz! C’mon, you gotta go big for Elton! I met him once, always said I did the best jazz hands” she smiled coyly; name drop achieved. Yaz gave in and started dancing wildly too, the pair laughing and jumping around as they sang out the words, soft gasps and giggles escaping as they accidentally brushed into each other. She missed dancing with Yaz, what she’d give for that again she thought, as the scene faded away to find only her dream Yaz stood in front of her, the plate of cake now on a table in between them, the Doctor approached it cautiously, considering the small, sugary slice, just as Yaz spoke once more.

“Maybe you’re thinking: ‘I’m on a diet.’ but then,’ and wisps of memory, or maybe even

possibility, descended down around them, a smile growing on Yaz’s face as she regarded the timelord “how many times will you be offered a piece of cake as delicious as this?” she questioned. The smoky matter swirled around them, greys and blues came to form figures but the Doctor keeps her eyes on Yaz, “Perhaps two or three times a year, if you’re lucky.” she drank in every word of what seemed to be a well thought out monologue, her subconscious had really thought this one out. In the corner of her eye, she could see a small scene blossom into colour, but she couldn’t turn away to investigate and risk losing Yaz, she focused back on her low utterance of words. “Over the course of your life, maybe two hundred times” where was the woman going with this? “And how many times will you refuse?” she earnestly asked.

A small “oh” escaped her mouth, it clicked. She turned to the burst of colour next to her, life with Yaz, what was that reality like?

Her alternate self popped her head around the TARDIS kitchen door “Yaz,” she quipped, a slightly older Yaz preparing sandwiches looked up at her with a hum of acknowledgement, “still beautiful as ever”, thought the time lord as she watched the scene. “Where’s my purple rucksack?” She asked in one single breath, a jumble of words, but Yaz understood. 

“Under the control room stairs,” she replied instantly, looking back to her task. The alien smiled before racing off, shouting back down the corridor.

“Thanks, Yaz! Be quick with those sandwiches! You can only observe the moon on Kidiri

for a very small window of time!” a clatter could be heard as she turned the corner to the control room “and remember to keep the noise down on the way out! Don’t want to wake Graham and Ryan” she shouted back. Yaz rolled her eyes with a smile, going back to the sandwiches before the scene blurred once more.

“How many times will you go adventuring in the moonlight?” dream Yaz asked, as a compilation of visuals swirled in and out of each other, the timelord leaning forward to curiously observe all of their escapades, “maybe seven, if you’re lucky.”, the pair of them visiting a moonlit festival and swapping food they both wanted to try, running through fields made of stars, hands interlocked, eating sandwiches in a little alien ski lift as they watched the moon project the most fascinating imagery. It was so fantastical, the Doctor wondered if that was all she could provide for Yaz, what if they settled down in Sheffield, would she still be able to provide the same magic and excitement that Yaz knew from her? Would she still be enough?

It was like the void had read her mind, the gallery of alien planet adventures desaturated into grey as another portion of the smoulder circle erupted into colour, Yaz directing her attention to a Doctor and Yaz duo that seemed to have been together for a few years, the Doctor’s arm draped around Yaz’s small shoulders, her other arm clinging onto a well-used, slightly frayed, blanket “How many times will you lie on your back in the grass and watch the stars?” the Yaz beside her asks, looking over at her, keen interest in her soft and sleepy eyes, munching on the last few bites of cake as she looks her counterpart over. The woman tore her eyes away from Yaz, looking back at what seemed to be an endless loop of an alternate her and Yaz running up a hill, laying a picnic blanket down and laying back to watch the stars. Each time, with the same amount of enthusiasm, each time swapping different stories. It was like that scene in UP!, the one that Graham always cried at, except it was her and Yaz. It was nice, cosy, she felt like there was maybe a chance for them if they settled down, that being if she wasn’t a coward and actually confessed her feelings. She would miss not adventuring in the TARDIS though, abandoning all sense of responsibility and just flying off to save a random planet a thousand years from whenever.

A burst of purple and blues appeared in the corner of their eye, causing a chuckle, she turned back to Yaz, who was returning her empty plate to the table between them. “I suppose you’ve got a response to that thought too?” she teased, making Yaz grin. The soft force of the wonder-filled space pushed the Doctor around, urging her to look up and around and out into space, dozens of TARDISes with different variations of the duo over time littering the view.

“How many times will you let yourself be completely overwhelmed by the great, inconceivable expanse of the universe?” Yaz finally spoke, as the wonder-struck alien looked up at all of the different versions of her and Yaz, cuddled up and staring out into the nebulas. She supposed both of them couldn’t completely settle down, not after everything they’d seen. The TARDIS wouldn’t be completely out of use, even if the adventure count reduced to once every few months, there was nothing stopping them from just suspending their legs in space with a cup of tea, taking in the beauty of the universe. She felt so content, it was beautiful. Years of possible life were laid out to her, and then they slowly began to fade back into nothingness. 

She watched as the scenario faded away, leaving her back where she started, a pyjama-clad Yaz in front of her. She felt the barrier between them lift, taking a tentative step “There are so many chances to take,” Yaz whispered as she stepped forward too. “And of course, you don’t know when it will end” they continued to walk slowly towards each other as Yaz spoke, it felt like a magnetic pull, “so it all feels…” Yaz trailed off, their faces were inches apart now, “Limitless.” Yaz whispered, and she jerked awake. The Time Lord choked out a sob as she felt the hard concrete beneath her. Pushing herself up off the ground, she curled back into her ball – this time upright – hoping to shield herself from the world. None of it was real, she was still here and Yaz was so incredibly far out of reach. The dark tattoo felt like an enormous weight on her arm, a harsh reminder she had no escape plan. Perhaps she could get the courage again to figure out a plan, to get back to Yaz, but for now, she would just sit and think. It was dangerous when she did that.

_How'm I supposed to think about anything else?_

_How am I to go on keeping this to myself?_

_I am done pretending I want anyone else_

_Anyone else, anyone else_

_Oh, oh, anyone else_

_Oh, oh, anyone else_

It’d been a few months now since her Doctor disappeared from her. On the outside, she seemed perfectly fine, back to normal almost, but inside, the grief still ate her up. It constantly clouded her brain, made her heartache at the slightest reminder of her. The darkness was all-encompassing, she didn’t think it would ever leave, plaguing her until her dying day. However, she pushed on, if not for herself, for her family, for Ryan and Graham, for her. She was told to ‘live a great life’, she supposed she had to try. That’s how she ended up dressed up on a Friday night, attempting to somewhat enjoy her now hollowed-out life.

Ryan was on a desperate campaign to find her a date, both of them knew that nobody could replace the Doc, but it was fun to meet up and break down all of Yaz’s dates, as well as analyse all of her possible next options over a bag of chips and a coke (or beer in Ryan’s case). It gave her an escape from the noise of her own head; Ryan pulled her out of the darkness twice a week with a laugh and a barrage of stupid ‘get-a-date-quick’ schemes. She’d been out with about half of the lads in Ryan’s contacts, tried and failed miserably to meet girls in clubs with him as a wingman, she even asked out the pretty secretary of the department next door at work, but nothing was the same. That’s when Ryan signed her up to Tinder, and she ended up sat in a corner booth of a dark, noisy bar, watching her date order their second round. Yaz had to admit, she was gorgeous. Her lush, dark tresses pinned up into a loose bun, small strands pulled out to frame her face perfectly and her navy-blue eyeshadow perfectly complimented her umber skin, which looked almost golden under the atmospheric lights. She especially loved her outfit, a navy leather jacket wrapped around the glitteriest slip dress she had ever seen, the sequins shimmered like stars whenever she moved. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but Yaz couldn’t help but think of how much the alien would’ve loved that dress, not to wear, just to look at it and compare it to all of the galaxies. She had begun to drift off into a state of heartache, picturing her face as she observed the shifting light, before a voice pulled her out of her daydream: “I know that look”, a drink appeared in front of her, her date flopping back down into her seat with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye, startling Yaz and bringing her right back to reality with a gasp. “There’s someone else,” she said, knowingly, with a teasing smile.

“What? No- this is a date! Only person I’m thinking of is you” Yaz flustered, sipping her mocktail in an attempt to feign ignorance.

“Nice play, but I don’t believe that for a second” she laughed, taking a swig of beer. She leant forward with a teasing smile. Yaz caved, putting her head in her hands.

“Agh, sorry Bill, I’m really trying here” she groaned, peeking up at the woman, now fully giggling at the situation. Composing herself, she went into full interrogation mode.

“I think I like you more as a pal anyway. Now we’ve got that out of the way, c’mon then, who are they?” she probed, her smile cracking even wider, shimmying her shoulders as if they were schoolgirls gossiping in the canteen.

“She- she’s not around anymore.” She sighed, staring down at her hands, fidgeting with her glass. A hand reached across the table and found itself atop her own. She looked up, Bill gave a small smile, encouraging her to go on. “I’m really trying to get on with things, my mate Ryan is trying to help me get a date, and I’m moving into my own place in a few weeks but it all just feels… I don’t know?” Yaz trailed off, reaching for the right words to describe the emptiness she felt.

“Blank? Vacant? Not the same?” Bill finished off for her, it sounded like she was speaking from experience. Yaz tilted her head, questioning.

“It sounds like you speak from experience” she quipped, impressed, but also curious. Bill scoffed, pausing for a moment to try and find the right explanation.

“I have this friend, who I travel with. We go to all these wonderful places around the world.” Yaz nodded, it sounded almost like her and the fam, but on a much smaller scale. She sipped her drink, urging her new friend to continue with a nod. “Before we met, he used to travel with this girl, I think her name was Lara? Zara? Maybe Kara? Not important, anyway, he used to travel with this girl and from how he’s spoken about her, I think he was in love with her.” Yaz softened.

“Aww, that’s really sweet,” she said softly, a small grin forming on her face. Bill nodded, a sad look overtaking her eyes.

“Yeah, whenever he did speak of her he spoke really highly, I don’t think they were ever together though, all I know is that he’s never felt how he felt with her ever since”, Yaz felt a pang in her heart, she knew that feeling all too well. The smile slowly crept back off her face, retiring for a while.

“I don’t know how it ended; he didn’t write that down” Yaz was confused once more. Did she hear that right?

“Wrote it down?” Yaz queried. Bill stopped for a second, confused at herself, she took a sip of her beer before suddenly realising.

“Oh yeah! Sorry! Forgot that bit! He’s never _actually_ told me about her, I found his old adventure journals in storage and had a flip through one night while he was off fixing the TA- the campervan's engine. To be honest, I think he’s tried to erase her from his memory, wants to forget the pain” she explained, Yaz wished it was that easy for her, just to write it all down and forget about her memories with the Doctor, leave all her thoughts and feelings in a notebook never to be experienced again, but then again, would she want to forget? Bill tossed a hand in the air, dismissing the notion.

“Anyway, to cut the babble short, I know he’s enjoying himself when we adventure together, but there’s always this sadness that clouds his eyes. I don’t think that ever goes away,” She summarised, finding Yaz’s hand and squeezing it once more “but you will be able to move on eventually, you’ll manage the grief, and you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got – what was his name, Ryan?” Yaz chuckled at her awful name recall skills, wiping a lone tear and nodding in confirmation “Ryan! You’ve got him, and you’ve got me, eh? There are people to help you through it Yaz.” She comforted. Yaz had only known this girl an hour and a half, but she had a feeling she’d made a firm friend in Bill.

The pair continued to chat about their lives, laughing together and making fun of the other singles’ poor attempts at pick-up lines they overhead from the bar. It was nice, though Yaz loved Ryan, it was nice to be out having fun with someone new, someone that understood her just as much as Ryan, even if they had known each other for only a few hours. There was this unspoken link between them, she couldn’t exactly place why Bill seemed so familiar to her. The pair were pulled out of their reverie when they heard a loud crash from the door, a white-haired man falling into the setting, seeming very out of place.

“Oh God” Bill muttered, Yaz whipping around to face her, confused. Bill began snatched up a napkin and started looking through her bag for a pen. The man surveyed the restaurant before pointing directly at Bill and storming across the establishment.

“POTTS! C’mon! Work to do!” he shouted in a thick, Scottish accent, his long coat billowing out behind him as he purposely strode towards his subject, before motioning her to follow him and turning right back around. Yaz was frozen, astounded, she had no idea what was going on. She looked back to Bill, who was scribbling down a number.

“Right. Well, he’s half an hour early, don’t know what else I was expecting,” she started to gather up her bag and her jacket, “I’m sorry to leave you like this, he’s my ride home and he’s not the best at time.” Bill slid the napkin and a few notes across the table “here’s my number so we don’t have to message on social media anymore and money for my half of the bill, you can keep the change” she stood up and smiled “you can text me anytime yeah? I had a lot of fun with you tonight Yaz” she called back as she began to walk towards her ride home.

“Yeah, same! Bye?” Yaz laughed, as she watched the bizarre pair exit, listening in on the muffled shouting at each other as they ran past the window their booth was next to

“You’re half an hour early mate!” she complained, pulling on her jacket as she ran after the man, waving quickly at Yaz as she passed.

“You said about 10ish! You know how the TARDIS feels about ‘ish’es!” did Yaz hear that right? Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her “Anyway I need your help! No date is more important than the saving of the universe!” he cried, saving the universe? Wow, the grief was creating up a whole host of delusions today.

“Ugh fine, you better have me a change of clothes, Scottie” Bill groaned, and that’s when it clicked – that white-haired man was Scottish. She ran to the exit and swung herself around the doorframe, just in time to see the pair stood outside a bright blue police box as the man fumbled with a set of keys. She wasn’t hearing things, that was the Doctor before she had met them, and that was Bill Potts, the girl her Doctor had told her stories of. The shock that hit her wore off slightly as she watched the pair clamber into the familiar old box, laughing together, she softened, happy that even though it wasn’t her Doctor and he had no idea who she was, she had seen a glimpse of her best friend. That was enough.

She paid for the drinks and embarked on the quiet but brisk walk home, reflecting on the night’s events, her favourite fluffy coat tightly wrapped around her. She felt oddly content, a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She went through the motions of arriving back home after a night out, slowly unlocking the door, kicking her boots off and creeping through the halls to her room. She slowly navigated the half-filled boxes that littered her room and found her most favourite star-patterned pyjamas, exchanging her finery for her comfort clothes and sinking down onto her bed, wrapping herself in her duvet. She still missed her, massively, but she was learning to manage her loss and the evening’s events somehow helped with that. Forging a friendship with Bill felt like she had formed a stronger connection to the Doctor, but Bill didn’t have to know that. With a smile on her face, she drifted off, content with the knowledge that it would get better and she had even more links to her little old alien than she thought.

_And now the days are getting longer_

_I'm caught daydreamin' of you_

_I'm still waiting for my happy ever after_

_When you're ready, I'll be ready too_

She’d started the tally again, instead of labelling it ‘Days in Prison’ she’d now labelled it ‘Days without Yaz (and the Fam, but mostly Yaz)’. After her dream that showed her all the possibilities of a life with Yaz as not just her best friend but her partner, a new fire had been lit inside of her. She had to get out of there, if not for herself, for Yaz, who still thought she was dead. That didn’t sit right, not one bit. As soon as she got out, the first thing she was going to do was find Yaz. Maybe they could bake another cake together, that would be nice, she’d like that. The walls were covered with drawings, escape plans and tally marks, miraculously she was able to find enough chalks lying around the cell to fill all available surfaces. It kept her going, scrawling on the rough, stone walls, kept her sane. She ran her hands along her latest escape plan, number two hundred and sixty-seven. It was a good one, she’d really thought this one through, but it was impossible without her sonic and her psychic paper. When she was first beamed into the cell, she had passed out almost immediately after looking out the window, and when she woke up all her coat pockets were empty. If anything, she was grateful she still had her clothes. It irked her constantly. Where was her psychic paper? Where was her sonic? Most importantly, where was her TARDIS? She had surmised that they had just logged and stored them in some sort of vault in the depth of the prison, they were too valuable not to be. She had pushed the worry of anything worse happening to them mostly to the side, but on her darker days the images of them being stripped and sold still haunted her thoughts. She sighed and fell back against the wall once more, staring up at the ceiling.

It had probably been almost nine earth months since she’d seen Yaz now, it felt like nine years. Her hair reached just below her shoulders now and it was a struggle to maintain, especially as she only had access to beamed in in-cell wash facilities once a week if she was lucky. Somehow, she’d managed to persuade a less secure prisoner who had cleaning duties outside her cell to slide two hair elastics through the cell bars without getting caught and she valued them dearly. Every day, she tried her hardest to mimic the complex hairstyle she’d seen her companion create, in an effort to both get her thick, greasy hair out of her face while she was working and to feel closer to the love of her (current) life. Her personal favourite was her signature space buns, that is, if they didn’t full out. How did Yaz manage to make them so neat? Maybe she’d just have to pull off the messy look until she got back to Yaz, “IF you get back to Yaz” the little voice in her head said. “No,” she whispered to herself, reaching up to pull out the space bun that was already falling apart “WHEN I get back to Yaz” she affirmed. “What if she’s moved on?” the little voice pushed, clawing at her mind, tearing her confidence apart little by little “what if she’s forgotten you? Like you forgot Clara?” it whispered, causing tears to roll. “NO!” she shouted, pulling the second space bun out now. “I didn’t have a choice!” she cried into the silence, the tears coming thick and fast now, “Yaz has a choice!” she whimpered, moving to repair both of her space buns “Yaz has a choice” she whispered to herself, choking back a sob. She quietly cried to herself, twisting the hair into little balls and tucking them into the hairband, before laying to the ground and pulling her dusty, grimy coat, that she had been using as a blanket, over herself, muttering “Yaz has a choice” over and over to herself until she lost consciousness.

Loud boots pulled her out of her slumber, it was that time of day, what guard would she be facing this time? She pushed herself up off the floor, steeling herself for yet another confrontation and turned around, slowly swaggering up the cell bars. “So,” she asked, cockily “Ya gonna tell me why I’m in here yet? Or are we having the same conversation as always?” she smirked at the guard.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, thinking you can speak to authority like this” they spat back, he looked and sounded like a teenager, not too long on the job. She stepped back, faking shock.

“Ooooh they’ve sent a feisty one, today haven’t they? Do you have any idea who I am?” she sneered, stepping even closer to the barrier, tilting her chin ever so slightly. The guard scoffed, shifting his weight.

“No one of importance, if you were, we would’ve heard of you in training. I won’t lie, I really don’t understand why someone as meaningless as you is in such a high-security cell” He jeered, now that made her angry.

“Oh mate, I’m the Doctor, I know for a FACT you’ve heard of me at least once, and not in your measly little training simulations” she seethed, her blood boiling, fists clenching, on the verge of losing all control.

“Don’t even try it, Mary Sue, the Doctor is a male, you could never, and I mean never, receive the same accolades, let alone impersonate them, little miss Nurse” he ribbed, laughing in her face. Oh, so they’d sent her a misogynist today then, what a treat. She waited for a flicker in the bars as he leant forward, a defect she’d noticed but never taken advantage of, before shooting an arm through and connecting her finger with the pressure point of his neck. Venusian Akido, works every time. He froze, staring back at her, eyes awash with fear.

“Now you listen here. I am the Doctor; I am one of the most powerful species in this universe. I am just as much of a threat in this body as I was in any of my other bodies. I am the oncoming storm. I could kill you right now if I didn’t want to be in an even worse position than I already am.” She threatened in a low, terrifying whisper, “I don’t care if you don’t tell me why I’m in here, I don’t care if you flex your little authority complex on me, but don’t you ever, EVER underestimate me. I WILL get out of this cell and I WILL bring almighty hell on this establishment with you first in line if you carry on acting like a self-entitled brat, do you understand me?” he stared back at her paralysed, eyes filled with terror, she dropped him. He sucked in a large, horrified breath, backing away from the chamber. “I said, do you understand me?” she growled. She’d probably pay for this, someone would capture it on camera and activate some awful trauma device attached to the ink in her tattoo, but she didn’t care.

“Y-yes” he stammered, shifting his collar and shuffling from foot to foot. She grinned, straightening up and putting on her most patronising of voices.

“Now then, you are going to go back to your leader, report to him that I am the same as always, demanding why I’m locked up and reporting the number of escape plan I’m on – which is 259, by the way, – and you are not going to mention anything that has just happened. You’re also going to delete the security video files for my corridor from the last fifteen minutes. Do I make myself clear?” she simpered, plastering on a fake grin for effect, the young guard nodded, all arrogance knocked out of him. “Thank you, and when I next see you, you will refer to me as my proper title, none of this ‘Nurse’ business. Off you pop” she commanded, watching him scurry down the corridor, before crumpling, losing all her bravado once he was out of sight. She was so tired; her temper had never been so short. She cannot imagine how Yaz would’ve reacted if she had seen her snap like that, her shocked face when she confronted the fam over the cyberium appeared in her mind. She had to learn to control herself, this hell place could not take her morals away from her. More importantly, she had to get out and fast, she was becoming a danger to herself. Time for escape plan number 260.

_Make you feel beautiful in the morning_

_Light you up when the rain won't stop pouring_

_'Cause there's a million little things I haven't told ya_

_It kills me every time he's with you so_

The sun peaked through Yaz’s blinds in her little one-bedroom flat. She stretched out, basking in the rays, before pulling herself out of bed. She washed and dressed, pulling on a blouse and jeans and tying her hair into her signature braids, before padding out into the main flat, making a cup of tea and popping two slices of bread into the toaster. She leant back against the counter, taking in the quiet for a moment before the toast popped up and the tell-tale ring of her iPad started, she’d somehow timed it perfectly. Relishing in her minor win, she reached over to her stand in the corner of the counter and swiped across to accept the call with a grin, opening a cupboard to grab a plate as she did so.

“And what time do you call this Miss Khan?” the crackled voice of Ryan filled the small kitchenette area. Yaz pulled her wrist up to her face as she went about her morning, opening the fridge.

“10:38, Mr Sinclair, is there a problem?” she smirked, finally looking back to the screen where a shocked Ryan looked back, walking through the streets of Sheffield. She chuckled as she carried on making her toast.

“You’re usually so punctual to a scheduled FaceTime, a whole 3 minutes? I thought you’d passed away overnight” he teased, flashing a smile at the camera.

“Well excuse me for wanting to make my breakfast, it’s not like I’ve got anywhere to be is there?” she laughed, grabbing a bit and walking over to the breakfast bar, sitting directly in front of the virtual Ryan.

“Wow, I should never have let you become friends with Bill, she’s sending you off the rails” he joked, shaking his head in despair. She laughed at that, he was right, Bill had definitely taught her to loosen up, more so than Ryan ever could. Ryan had no idea Bill was a fellow companion, but Bill didn’t know they were either, so that would just be Yaz’s little secret. She sipped her tea, smiling to herself.

“Maybe, or maybe it’s just that time is only a concept to me now” she announced, in her most pretentious voice possible.

“Okay, Doc” he quipped back, badly mimicking Graham. She almost spat her tea out laughing, it was the worst impression she’d ever heard.

“Was that- was that Graham?” she spluttered, giggling to herself. That had made her day, she’d never let Ryan live that down, that’s for sure.

“Oh c’monnnnn” he whined, “yeah it was, he says hi, by the way, you’re invited around for dinner next week, he’s got this new slow cooker and he wants you to be there when he tries it out for the first time…” that made her smile, Graham had always really valued her opinions on his cooking, always calling her into the TARDIS kitchen to taste his creations and suggest spices and garnishes, she made a mental note to add a bottle of wine to her shopping list to take round. “Anyway, the reason for calling” Ryan babbled, finally realising there was an actual point to this call. Yaz shook her head and smiled at his little head nod, a little dyspraxic reassurance mechanism she’d picked up on him doing over the years, “you said to ring at half ten and let you know if I was on the way or not and I am in fact” he gestured around, moving the camera to show his surroundings “on the way, do you want me to pick anything up? I don’t know, command hooks? Spirit levels? The ability to actually hang things without them going askew or dropping them?” he remarked, sarcastically, causing her to almost snort with laughter. Ryan frowned, “genuinely, why did you even ask me to help you with this?” he complained.

“‘cause you’re my best mate and I want you to be here to see my flat finally get finished! You can supervise if you want, I only need your help with the frame delivery” she explained, walking away from the bar and back to the counter to deposit her plate and mug in the sink, “Pick us up some of those gelatine-free Haribo will you? There’s some in the corner shop at the end of my road” she shouted back at the tablet, hearing Ryan sigh behind her, prompting a devilish grin “and yeah, before you ask, I’m not paying you back” she teased, smugly swinging back around to face the camera, causing him to laugh, he gave in.

“Alright fine, I’ll see you in 20” he smiled, before quickly ending the call. She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

Twenty minutes later, Ryan arrived, letting himself in and immediately falling into his spot on the couch, as usual. Yaz watched the entire event from her desk, where she had been sketching out plans for the gallery wall she wanted, with an unimpressed look on her face. “No hello?” she remarked.

“If you wanted a hello, you would leave the door locked rather than unlocking it when I’m ten minutes away. That way you would open it for me, and we could exchange in normal human conversation. Here’s your Haribo” he bantered back, chucking a packet of gummy bears at her, her favourite. She guessed he was right.

“You make a fair point” she shrugged, pulling the bag of Haribo open, even if it was mid-morning. She had a long day ahead and her mother could no longer judge her, there was no guilt behind this act. Munching on sweets, she began to explain the plan to Ryan. “Okay, so, you’re actually here just on time, my frame delivery arrives in ten, I got a range of sizes and shapes so they’ve had to put it in a massive heavy box, I basically need you to spot me as I carry them up the stairs. Then, we’ve gotta arrange them all, mark up the wall, stick command hooks to them, and then actually get them on the wall, then maybe we can…” she trailed off, suddenly noticing Ryan’s blank stare, “You didn’t get any of that did you?” she asked, soft and understanding.

“I got to the massive heavy box,” he said sheepishly “but I think I might need you to go from the top for context” he explained.

“That’s cool, from the top! Once more, with feeling!” she announced, making him laugh. “Frames, here in 10 minutes.” she stopped, waiting for a nod, Ryan acted accordingly, and she continued, “Lots of different sizes, big heavy box, we have to carry it up the stairs.” Nod. “I’m stronger and more coordinated, so I’ll carry it, you spot.” Nod. “Arrange them, mark up the wall” Nod. “I put them up, you supervise” Nod. “We survey the finished flat, we go to the pub.” The last step made him crack a smile, an approving little dance coming from her best mate.

“Yeaahhh! Wait, do you not have any calls or anything today?” he questioned as she jumped up to grab her keys and walk out to meet the delivery guy, she had just received a text from.

“Nope, this day’s been kept clear in my schedule for a while now, very important day this is! Finishing my flat and a pub lunch? No calls must interrupt such sacred acts.” She proclaimed, swinging open the door and almost running to the stairs with excitement. 

“Have I told you how much I love freelance Yaz yet? Like, police Yaz was great, but going to the pub? Before 10 pm on a Friday night? Never go back to policing.” Ryan gushed, scurrying along behind her.

“Oh, I don’t plan on it” she laughed. She meant that. While she loved her time as a police officer, protecting her neighbourhood and goofing off at the station with her colleagues during breaks, since leaving the TARDIS, it hadn’t felt the same. She’d experienced so many otherworldly sights and contributed to the protection of the universe in so many different ways, that policing just couldn’t live up to it. There was no sense of adventure, no sense of bravery, it just became slow and monotonous. She really tried to get back into the swing of things, she spent months doing just that, but after trying for the majority of the year, she caved and left the force. Now, she filled her time with sketches upon sketches, ink-stained hands, paint smudges on surfaces and hundreds of digital art files. She’d always loved creating things but had never pursued it. She never thought she was good enough, until now - when she realised that if she wanted to ‘live a great life’, she’d need to take risks like her Doctor did - and she was pretty damn good at the whole freelance business too. Her business social media counts slowly ticked up and clients were coming in at a steady pace, she even had a meeting with a popular publishing company to illustrate the cover of a new release of children’s classics booked in for the following week. It was exhilarating, sharing her art with the world like this. Each commission gave her a thrill, as she knew no two would be the same. It was almost like pulling the lever in the TARDIS but from her own desk. Not to mention, she had more time for herself and her friends, allowing her to truly experience life on Earth as it should be. She smiled to herself, she truly was living a great life, even if one of the most important people in it was missing. The spirit of the Doctor was there and that made her heart burst.

The pair stepped back, surveying their work. A fair few hours had passed and the flat was covered in clutter, chaos, but Yaz’s flat was finally finished, after what had seemed like months of hard work. The gallery wall was filled with memories, polaroids and photo strips from nights out with Bill and Ryan, a few photos Ryan had taken during the fam’s earthbound adventures, a family photo where even Sonya was caught smiling, framed cartoon sketches of her favourite creatures she’d seen, an old photo of Grace that Graham had dug out from the loft and so kindly gifted to her and there, in the middle, was a large painting of the doctor herself. She was spinning around on a hilltop, hair and coat flying out, Yaz remembers it well. She just wouldn’t stand still, twirling around in the golden rays of the sun, babbling on about why this was the best time of day on Earth, as Yaz laughed and desperately tried to sketch out her form. It was one of her favourite memories of the Doctor, she treasured it, her evening with the Doctor on the Yorkshire Dales. “She’d be well proud of you ya know,” Ryan smiled, nudging his best mate,

“she was the biggest ‘Yaz the Artist’ supporter” he joined her in front of the painting, Yaz looked at her shoes, now incredibly bashful.

“I wish she could see this for herself, I never showed her the painting in the end” she admitted, looking over at Ryan, who was now grinning.

“Why? Were you still writing the love confession to go with it or something?” he teased, earning a hard shove that sent him tripping over his feet.

“Oh shut it you,” Yaz shouted indignant, grabbing her coat with a smile, “if you must know, I was 10 words short,” she joked, laughing at the shocked look on Ryan’s face at her stupid comeback “Pub lunch? Maybe fill that open gob with a Yorkshire pud rather than flies?” she smirked, walking out into the early autumn sun, Ryan following.

“Okay, maybe I’m not too keen on freelance Yaz after all” he sighed fondly, pulling the door shut.

The door clicked open and a bag flew in onto the floor, followed by a much fuller and content Yaz. She had left Ryan at the crossroads with a hug, before turning down her street and trudging up the stairs of her apartment block. As she closed her door and walked into her small little kitchen, she was set on the idea of a big night in, her fuzziest pjs, an old Marilyn Monroe film and a pint of ice cream. Well, that was the plan until her mail on the counter started glitching. Confused, she flicked a light on and slowly approached the small pile of bills, letters from Graham (even though he lived down the road) and cards from family. “Stay calm Yaz, what would the Doctor do?” she muttered to herself, “Probably sonic it actually, can’t do tha-” she froze. A wheeze. She just heard a wheeze, maybe even a hum. Was the TARDIS doing this? That wasn’t possible. Was she being beamed something from the TARDIS? No, she couldn’t be, the Doctor was separated from the TARDIS. The Doctor was dead. A scrap of paper came into view, dirt, chalk and what looked like blood lining the edges. She reached out to touch it, causing a flicker and a buzz. Confusion painted every inch of her face, this was definitely alien and definitely to do with the Doctor, but she had no idea what it had to do with her, or why it was only coming to her now. The letter stopped shifting, now a fully formed, fragile sheet laying atop the mail. She almost didn’t want to touch it for fear that it would turn to dust in her hands. She slowly unfolded the soiled paper to reveal her Doctor’s scribbled handwriting. It looked like a frantic journal page as if she’d spilt all her thoughts and emotions quickly onto the page so she didn’t have to tell anyone else. Yaz stopped herself for a minute – maybe she shouldn’t read this, it looked private – but then again, if it had been transported to her by some alien means, maybe she was meant to read it. She let her eyes drift across the hurried thoughts, whispering the lines to herself.

“ _First things first, we start the scene in reverse, all of the lines rehearsed, disappeared from my mind_ ” this confused Yaz, did the Doctor regret something? What could’ve possibly happened during their time together that made her feel this compelled to erase her memory? She read on, “ _When things got loud, one of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride_ ” that must have been in reference to an argument, she was positive. Yet the only argument she could think of was when they were on Gallifrey. Did she write this before she sacrificed herself, was that why it was so frantic? Why did she want to turn around? She was adamant she had to do that.

“She pushed me back into the TARDIS” she whispered to herself, finding the bar stool and placing herself down, mind racing “she had to go, why did she want to turn back?” she picked the letter back up off the counter, hands beginning to shake.

“ _No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize. Pieces of a clock that lies broken.”_ Familiar tears began to creep back into Yaz’s eyes, she didn’t have to apologise. She’d never have to apologise. Yaz wished these weren’t the last thoughts that she had before she went, that she could hold her hand as she pressed the button, that she could comfort her silly old timelord in her darkest hour. Her heart stopped as her eyes dropped to the next line “ _If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write, in every empty space, the words "I love you" in replace then maybe time would not erase me.”_ The Doctor loved her. She shook her head, maybe it was a general sense, she loved the fam. The Doctor loved the fam. A little voice whispered in her head, nudging her.

“She didn’t argue with the whole fam though, just you. She’s talking about an argument with _you._ ” A smile broke out on her face as the tears streamed tenfold. The Doctor loved her. She would never get to tell her that she loved her back, but The Doctor loved – wait. She reread the line after.

 _“Then maybe time would not erase me”_ stared back. A glimmer of hope sparked back up in Yaz’s eyes, butterflies swarming her stomach.

“Then maybe time would not erase me.” she muttered to herself, “that sounds retrospective.” Her hands shook, even more, the Doctor was alive. She was probably thousands of miles away, desperately trying to recalibrate a severely battered TARDIS and therefore not able to get back to her, but she was alive. She’d be here soon. She read on with excitement.

 _“If you could only know I'd never let you go and the words I most regrets are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Yasmin.”_ That confirmed it, it was for her. The Doctor loved her, and The Doctor was… in prison? Yaz scrubbed at a smudged patch of chalky substance, revealing a small branded footer: **STORMCAGE MAXIMUM SECURITY CONTAINMENT CENTRE.** Yaz felt like she’d been punched in the throat. That’s why the Doctor hadn’t come back yet. She couldn’t. This paper was probably not even meant to get to her, and the TARDIS had just picked up that the Doctor’s final wishes were to tell Yaz how she truly felt. This felt worse than thinking the Doctor was dead. Now she had to live with the fact she was being tortured in prison.

Yaz allowed herself to cry for a few hours, tear splotches blurring the ink of the manuscript in front of her, before pulling herself out of her rut. She couldn’t get like this again; she terrified her family and friends last time. It wasn’t fair to them or to herself. With all the strength she could muster, she pulled herself up from the floor she’d sunk down to and folded up the thin sheet. She placed a small kiss to the small indentation of “ _I Love You_ ” from where the Doctor had pressed too hard and hid it under a loose floorboard behind the TV. Never to be seen again. The Doctor couldn’t come back, and Yaz had to make peace with that.

_How'm I supposed to think about anything else?_

_How am I to go on keeping this to myself?_

_I am done pretending I want anyone else_

_Anyone else, anyone else_

The Doctor did pay for her little power trip, she paid very hard in fact. She’d been stripped of her clothes and her washing opportunities cut down, now sat in a much more restrictive red jumpsuit with greasy scraped back hair. Her rations were even smaller than before, and the power of her cell bars had been turned up past 100%, they fizzled with energy now, making her cell feel hot and sticky. As if that was not enough, the nanotech that festered itself within the ink of her tattooed wrist was kicked into action for a week of traumatising punishment. It caused her illusion after illusion of Yasmin Khan screaming back at her, telling her that she was worthless, that she could never love her, that she hated her. The argument right before they left Gallifrey also swam through her memory on a loop, reminding her of how she pathetic she was, couldn’t even confess her feelings when she had the opportunity to. She was a coward, and it plagued her mind, sending her stir crazy. The tallies and the doodles and the escape plans had now been scrawled over with a mixture of chalk and dirt, the words “I’M SORRY YASMIN. I LOVE YOU YASMIN.” Filling every inch of space. She’d even written a frantic letter when she was vaguely conscious and not plagued by illusions but that had disappeared, probably removed by the control centre or burnt by the electricity of the cell. All that she knew was that she’d never see it again.

Now, weeks later, she lay in her cell, exhausted. The fragile alien was slumped against a wall, staring into nothing, numb. She wasn’t sure how long it’d been since she’d moved from this spot, most likely a few days. Time merged now, she didn’t bother keeping track, she just lived from meal to meal. She wondered what year she was in; did they transport her to Stormcage in 2020? Or Stormcage in 5007? Probably the latter, the technology they were using was far too elaborate for 2020. 

BANG! A ruckus could be heard on the other side of the ship, she didn’t let it phase her, they’d probably hit technical problems again, and after the punishment she received for taking advantage of that last time? She daren't try that again. The sounds of guards abandoning their posts and thundering through the halls could be heard all around, their heavy boots hitting the metal floors. She closed her eyes, tuning out from the chaos until she heard a clatter of metal, something falling into her cell. Her eyelids fluttered open, fixing on a familiar silver and amber tool, her sonic. Scrambling, she crawled over and grabbed the precious device, turning around in search of who to thank. She caught a glimpse of a long coat and a thick set of dirty blonde curls whooshing around a corner, could that be? No time to work that one out. The timelord jumped to attention, newfound energy coursing through her veins. She had a sonic, this might be a chance, now it was time for the most Doctor-y plan she could muster. “Right, we’ve got the sonic, that must mean that the old girl is in here somewhere too, just how do we reach her without getting caught? Come on Doctor think! Listen!” she tuned back into the racket erupting around her, guards shouting back and forth, radios crackling.

“Security’s down by 60%! It could take at least 5 minutes to reach full power again! Everyone stay vigilant!” power’s down, that’s good, her sonic’s energy pulses shouldn’t be blocked, now all that was left to tackle was a distraction.

“The Professor’s on the starboard side! Backup forces needed!” a guard from the corridor around the corner shouted. Everything clicked into place for The Doctor.

“Oh you, WONDERFUL woman you!” she shouted, setting up her sonic and waiting for her mark, running up to the window and grabbing hold of its bars. A distinct voice echoed from around the corner.

“Oh I wouldn't worry about backup. Triple seven, five, five, slash three, four, nine ten.” The voice began to rattle off. “Zero, twelve, slash acorn. Oh, and I could do with an air corridor” The Doctor smiled, those were familiar coordinates. “As I said, you won’t need backup, but you may need something to hold on to” echoed through the halls and the distinct sound of the airlock opening filled the alien’s ears, prompting her to hold her sonic high up in the air and lock onto her ship’s frequency.

As the TARDIS began to materialise in the cell, the Doctor looked out the window to see her wife floating through the air corridor, she caught her eye and winked, mouthing “Go get her, sweetie” before turning back and floating into the arms of her former self, the old TARDIS wheezing as her best friend, Amelia Pond held open the doors in amazement. They all looked so young and full of promise, The Doctor smiled as River turned back to wave, shutting the door.

“That’s my girl” she hummed fondly, before switching back into action mode. The TARDIS stabilised beneath her and flung open its doors, allowing her to let go of the bars she was hanging from and drop seamlessly into the bright console room she had missed dearly. Jumping up, she all but pounced on the console, flipping switched, pulling levers, spinning hourglasses. “‘Ello sexy! What they been doing to you?” the TARDIS wheezed happily, almost laughing at the exuberance of the Doctor, franticly pushing buttons. “Right,” she shouted, whirling round to the big lever, hand grabbing onto it firmly, “Sheffield.” She stated, the fire returning to her eyes. “I’ve got a cake to bake.”

The journey was long, they were making a large time and space jump, and by the time the TARDIS materialised, most of the adrenaline had worn off, exhaustion creeping in, but she pushed through. Pulling open the door, she fell out into the cold, crisp air of Sheffield. “Now whereabouts are we?” she mumbled, catching her bearings before her eyes landed on a familiar supermarket. “TESCO! INGREDIENTS! Oh, Idris, my love, what did I ever do to deserve you?” she gushed, receiving a satisfied hum from the TARDIS, mentally giving her timelord a nudge to enter the shop. The Doctor rushed in and grabbed a basket, tiredness blurring her vision, she was subconsciously drawn to an offers shelf full of gummy worms. “Sugar will fight off the tiredness” she mumbled to herself, ripping open the bag and stuffing the worms into her mouth, much to the dismay of the old woman next to her in the aisle. She stopped awkwardly, smiling sheepishly at the onlooker, “I’ll pay for them I promise” she reassured, before stumbling down into the aisles.

The old alien had practically memorised the recipe for Yaz’s Mary Berry sponge while in prison, allowing her to blunder around the shop collecting ingredients easily, stopping in a few random aisles for what she called the essentials: more gummy worms, a can of something fizzy - she didn’t care what – and some custard creams. If she’d gained any attention or concerned stares while tearing through the shop in her loopy state, she hadn’t noticed. All that she cared about right now was her cake, and Yaz, and how close she was to getting back to Yaz. Filling her basket up to the brim, she made her way to pay, before stopping in her tracks at the tills. She looked down at her basket and up at the other customers packing their shopping into bags, a frown forming onto her face. She didn’t have any bags and her arms were no longer long enough to pile up and carry all of her shopping back to the TARDIS. She stood there, confused, bewildered and tired at the Tesco tills, lost in thought, desperately trying to figure out a plan, until she felt a light tap on her arm. She jumped and turned to the source. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you!” a kind stranger apologised, smiling down at her. White eyeliner rimmed her bright eyes, providing a stark contrast to the cascades of dark brown hair that sat atop a brightly coloured dress emblazoned with a bookshelf pattern. The Doctor decided she liked her. She’d make a fine companion if she didn’t have the fam. The stranger motioned over to a rack of bags, “They have bags for life over there if you need one, I really like the rainbow one” she beamed.

“You’re my kind of person, I do too.” The Doctor announced, a smile taking over her face too. “Thank you so much,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome! Enjoy your cake!” she said brightly, eyeing the ingredients in her basket before turning away and putting her earphones back in, humming a tune similar to one from a musical that the Doctor had seen around 47 times. That ‘defying gravity’ concept always stumped her. Quickly, she dodged out of line and grabbed two rainbow shopping bags, before heading through the checkout, using her sonic to pay and speeding back out to the TARDIS, shopping bags in hand. She was overwhelmingly tired now, almost falling over herself onto the console, but she pushed herself to pull the right levers and twist the correct knobs, before pulling at the big lever. She couldn’t stop now it was time to see Yaz. 

_The world melts away when I'm with you_

_And I know you're afraid to jump too soon, oh_

_But I promise if you would_

_I'd love you better than he ever could_

_Girl, we'd have it good, we'd have it good_

Yaz was on her daily walk. Now that she worked from home, she made it a priority to get out at least once a day to keep herself sane. She’d settled for a short walk around the block that evening, as it was later than usual, so she didn’t want to go too far from home. She had her headphones in, listening to some song by The Beach Boys that Graham had recommended to her, and was currently deciding whether she wanted to turn left and circle her family’s flat, or turn right and stop by Ryan’s. She took two steps right before she heard an almighty wheeze. She froze to the spot, pulling out her earphones to check if she heard that right. A vworp. Then another. That was the stabilising sequence. She spun around, fumbling for her glasses in her pocket and shoving them haphazardly over her eyes, not even bothering to stick them on her face. That was the TARDIS. The TARDIS was materialising outside Park Hill. The Doctor was back. Her Doctor was back. She took off at a run. Her feet pounding the ground as she stormed up the hill, not caring about the hair in her face or the lack of air in her lungs, she just kept running.

Yaz had reached the halfway point when the ship finally stabilised and her Doctor - clad in red prison overalls - all but fell over her feet out of it, tiredness taking over, hands full with… rainbow shopping bags? That didn’t matter right now. She began to stumble towards Yaz’s old flat, prompting Yaz to call out to her. “Doctor!” she yelled, a mixture of elated and frantic, closing the distance with each second. The time lord whipped around and staggered back, letting at a cry. “No! NO! STOP!” she yelled, causing Yaz to stop in shock, she looked traumatised, a shell of her former self, a sense of pleading clouding her eyes. “Yasmin is it really you or are you just another illusion” she whimpered, on the verge of tears. That hit Yaz square in the chest, she could see the torture in her eyes. Yaz now had a feeling that the letter she received was written in a very manic, grief-stricken state that had stripped Yaz of her title and reset her to Yasmin until the Doctor saw the true Yaz. She slowly stepped towards the fragile timelord; arms outstretched.

“It’s me Doctor. It’s Yaz.” She reassured in a soft whisper, the Doctor still backing away, unsure.

“Tell me something only you would know.” she cried, fear spreading across her features, body shaking.

“There was an evening last summer before we took off on another venture, where you and I visited the Yorkshire Dales. Do you remember that?” the doctor nodded, calming down slightly, “I painted you spinning on top of the hill, you told me that golden hour was your favourite time of day on Earth so I adorned it with shimmery gold paint.” She smiled, the Doctor’s eyes growing soft again, prompting Yaz to step closer “I never got to show you the finished project as we didn’t come home after that but it’s now hanging up in my flat next to a photo of us and Graham and Ryan, when we went to get ice cream in 1970s Australia” she told her fondly, stepping forward again. “It’s me. It’s Yaz.” She urged, and the Doctor broke down, running forward and collapsing into her arms, exhausted.

Yaz allowed herself a moment to feel completely overjoyed. The Doctor fit back into her arms perfectly, she felt almost whole again. A warm tingle spread throughout her body as she raked her fingers through the timelord’s hair, not even bothering about the grease. The Doctor cried and cried, still holding those silly rainbow Tesco bags that confused Yaz to no end. “Y-Yaz,” she sniffed, she had never looked so small. Yaz hummed in question. “I can’t believe I’ve got back to you, it’s been forever.” Yaz paused. Had it not been a year for her too?

“Doctor, how long have you been imprisoned for?” she questioned, worry tinging her voice.

“I stopped counting at 4 years and 176 days” she muttered, words slurring slightly “not enough space left for tallies after I wrote out the cake recipe, can we make a cake? Please” she asked, slightly lifting her arms to remind Yaz of the bags. Now they made sense.

“Of course, we can, but right now I think you need a wash, some pyjamas and a sleep.” She instructed, hoisting the doctor’s arm around her neck and taking the bags out of her hands. The dazed Doctor smiled, humming “mmnap at yaz’s that soundsnice”, half asleep and trudging after Yaz’s lead. 

Once they’d reached home, Yaz sat the Doctor on the toilet seat and instructed her to wait. She then collected up the fuzzy rainbow pyjamas she knew she loved, a collection of nice shower products including a caramel scented shampoo, as well as a few custard creams to reward her timelord for pushing through the tiredness and taking care of herself. Then, she helped the Doctor into the shower and sat outside waiting, just in case she was needed, then she provided custard creams as she brushed through the Doctor’s matted hair, applied a few products to restore the hair’s health and tucked the tired alien into bed, with as many blankets as possible to warm her up. Then, she sat at the side of the bed, holding the alien’s hand until she fell asleep.

After an hour of sitting contently next to the sleeping woman, hand in hand, Yaz slowly made a move to get up. Quietly, once she was sure that she was completely asleep, she leant over and placed a featherlight kiss onto her forehead, before creeping out into her kitchen, popping the kettle on and speed dialling Ryan. Ryan picked up with his usual teasing tone, “Not like you to call this late Miss Khan, was our FaceTime this morning not satisfactory enough for you? Granddad says hell-”

“She’s back.” Yaz blurted out, interrupting him.

“Yasmin Khan, if you’re bullshitting me in the middle of the night…”

“I’m not. The Doctor’s back.”

“We’re coming over.”

“No, don’t do that! She’s asleep!”

“And? I’m getting my keys.” She heard rustling from the other end of the line.

“Please, Ryan, when I found her, she was in such a state she called me Yasmin and didn’t believe it was me. Whatever she’s been through, wherever she was, it was a lot. It would be too much for her to wake up and see you guys on top of everything” she pleaded. Ryan sighed.

“Gah, I hate it when you go logical on me, Khan. You’re right.”

“You can come around for dinner tomorrow if you like? See her then?” Yaz could hear sounds of approval from Graham but Ryan still seemed a bit miffed he’d have to wait.

“A fam Sunday roast, like we used to. Then it’s a deal.” He bartered.

“We’ll even have cake if you like, I think we’re making one tomorrow.” She quipped.

“Okay?” Ryan chuckled, “I mean I won’t say no, a bit of an odd activity to decide on when your crush is in a traumatic state but okay.”

“It’s a long story, maybe she’ll tell you sometime.” Yaz smiled down the phone.

“Ohhh it’s like that is it? Okay Yazzy, I see you. Text me updates, yeah? I worry about her. And you. Updates on the pair of you, got it?” he asked in an earnest tone.

“Got it. Love you Ry”

“Love you too” he responded, before putting the phone down, leaving Yaz to sip her tea. After a while, she padded back to the bedroom, pulling on some floral print pyjamas and sliding into bed next to The Doctor, careful not to wake her. For the first time in a year, Yaz fell asleep with a genuine smile on her face.

_How'm I supposed to think about anything else?_

_How am I to go on keeping this to myself?_

_I am done pretending I want anyone else_

_Anyone else, anyone else_

The Doctor awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in what felt like a millennium, the soft blankets wrapping around her like a swathe of hugs and the fuzzy pj set soft on her skin rather than a scratchy, dirty prison jumpsuit. She’d give everything to wake up like this every morning, but one thing was missing, there was no Yaz in Yaz’s bed. As if on cue, the woman herself poked her head around the door, padded in and sat down on the edge of the bed, sipping her tea. “I thought I heard movement,” she remarked, “how did you sleep?” she asked, concern lacing her tone.

“That’s one of the best sleep’s I’ve had in all of my lives, I think, your bed is just beyond all universal comprehension of comfort” she babbled, making Yaz giggle.

“Why thank you, I take that review with the highest honour.” She said back, the smile on her face growing by the second. She looked absolutely breath-taking, even in a pair of old pyjamas with messy morning hair. The Doctor stretched, looking around to see the blood red prison jumpsuit poking out of a bin bag in the corner.

“I don’t know what I’m going to wear today,” she remarked sleepily “TARDIS is a long way for a tired timelord.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Yaz softened.

“You can stay in your pyjamas if you like, Graham and Ryan are coming over for Sunday roast this evening but I’m sure they won’t mind, if not you can borrow some of my clothes?” she offered. The Doc liked the idea of exploring Yaz’s wardrobe.

“Can I have some of your clothes please, Yaz? Maybe something comfy that’s good for baking” she asked, hopefully. Yaz beamed at the question, now just as excited to bake as the Doctor.

“Of course, you can, silly. I’ve got some dungarees if you’d like those. And a rainbow top somewhere?” That was an incredibly tempting offer, she nodded furiously.

Once the Doctor had finally dragged herself out from under the covers and into the kitchen for some form of breakfast, Yaz set to work finding her the clothes. Then, once they were both dressed and ready, it was baking time. Just like before, Yaz turned on her baking playlist and they jumped around the kitchen happily, measuring ingredients and mixing them up. Even though she’d spent 4 years perfecting how to carry out this recipe in her mind, the Doctor still managed to make a complete mess of it. Maybe it was because she didn’t have a real kitchen to practice, maybe she was just clumsy, maybe it was because she kept getting distracted by the woman next to her. Either way, both the kitchen and its occupants were covered with sugar and flour. As she watched Yaz move to put the cake tins in the oven, she thought it best to apologise. “I’m sorry I make such a mess every time we do this, I just get carried away” she says, a sheepish look on her face but Yaz only laughs and waves it away with her hand.

“No need to be sorry, that’s the fun of baking, besides…” she pauses, moving to grab the leftover flour in a bowl on the side, “means it won’t make a difference if I do this!” she yells, chucking a handful of flour right at the timelord, a look of pure glee on her face.

“Oh, it is ON, Yasmin Khan” the Doctor declares, grabbing whatever powdered substance she can find and throwing it back, laughing.

They raced around the small flat, engaging in one of the most chaotic of food fights known to timelord. The little alien had never known joy like this. As they had both given in and were catching their breath, a soft, familiar tune came up on the playlist. The sounds of a rhythmic guitar filled the room as the Doctor extended out her hand. “Dance with me, Yaz?” she asked, terrified, but it felt so right to ask. Yaz looked up in shock, before softening and taking her hand almost instantly, allowing herself to be pulled in close by her Doctor. The Doctor leaned in, taking in her scent.

_“You say you gotta think it over…”_

They began to sway in the kitchen, eyes closed, Yaz’s head on her shoulder, the rest of the world had melted away, it was just them.

_“I can’t stop thinking of you…”_

Yaz sighed happily, the Doctor’s hearts were beating tenfold, now was the time to say what she’d always meant to have said. “You mean the world to me, Yasmin Khan, y-you know that right?” she stammered.

“I know,” Yaz said quietly, taking her head off of her shoulder to look directly into the timelord’s eyes. Had they always had such a fire to them? They looked almost like gemstones. “The TARDIS delivered some form of journal page a while back… I don’t know how but… I know.” The Doctor’s heart dropped; she began the race to explain.

“Yaz I, I’m sorry, I should have turned back I should’ve-mph!” and suddenly Yaz was kissing her. Suddenly she was kissing back. All the words she hadn’t said and all of their past didn’t matter. It was just them, in Yasmin Khan’s kitchen, kissing. To say she could’ve melted on the spot was an understatement. Yaz pulled back, giggling at the dazed look on her face.

“I love you, you silly old timelord.” She declared, before returning her forehead back to the crook of the Doctor’s neck, the nickname cracked a smile.

“Yasmin Khan, I love you too.” She smiled, swaying the pair back and forth to the music once more.

And that’s how the Doctor learnt how to bake a cake.

_I keep hoping it'll only be a matter of time_

_'Til the memory fades and the feelings subside_

_Time won't help, I can't settle for anyone else_

_Anyone else, anyone else_

**Author's Note:**

> well THAT was a bit of a ride wasn't it?
> 
> you may have noticed some familiar words, yaz's speech in the solitract screen is dodie's monologue from the in the middle music video (shout out dodes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHXD9k19q1Y and the content on thirteen's letter is the first verse and chorus of unsaid emily from julie and the phantoms because I enjoy pain :)))))) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhhtZkSH8pM&t=103s
> 
> if you'd like to listen to the song that makes up the framework of this fic, (anyone else by Joshua Bassett) here's a link! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=185hGYc4NGw
> 
> please let me know what you think, I want to scream about this to someone, anyone!!


End file.
